Healing Touch
by iflip4dolphins
Summary: Magic doesn't always hurt. Sometimes, it heals. F!Hawke/Fenris


_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age._

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"Do they hurt?"

He's not sure why she's chosen now, of all times, to ask, but the way her fingers trace the marking at his neck make it clear what she's referring to. Fenris sighs, a deep thing that empties his chest of all breath as her fingers trail down to his shoulder and she ceases her idle explorations. "You don't want to know the answer to that question," he finally says, low, quiet.

He does not wish to hurt her, after all – he still remembers how worried she had been that she had hurt him, all those years ago, and asking this question _now_ implies things that he does not want her to ever think. She is gentle and kind, careful and loving, and he cannot let her think for a moment that she has hurt him.

"I do, though," Cora insists, propping herself up on her elbow, fingers curled against her scars. "In general," she clarifies. "You mentioned something about them being painful a long time ago."

"You wish to know if the pain persists."

"Yes."

The sheets pool around his waist as he sits up, her hand slipping across his chest as he moves. He braces his hands on his thighs and bows his head, glancing at her as she tilts her head, confused. "Why?" he finally asks, uncertain as to what she wants with the knowledge. It will only harm her, only cause her emotional pain he does not wish to inflict on her. He has caused her enough damage; she does not need to be saddled with the knowledge that no matter what he does, the pain never ceases.

"Should I take that as a yes?" Cora asks, sitting up herself, eyes landing somewhere in the vicinity of his cheek.

He cups hers with his hand, strokes her cheekbone with his thumb. "There's nothing to be done about it," he finally says, an answer in and of itself. "Why do you ask?"

Fenris isn't quite expecting her to press a kiss to his palm, but he supposes he shouldn't be surprised. "Because," she murmurs, a faint smile tugging at her lips, "I think I might be able to do something about it."

"You cannot," he replies flatly.

"Oh, ye of little faith," she chides, tsking and shaking her head in what he's certain is an exaggeration. Her hand covers his at her cheek, and she removes it gently, folding his hand between hers. "I'm a healer, Fenris," she reminds him gently, her smile faded, but still hinted at in the corners of her mouth. "I've eased headaches, fixed joint pain. I know it isn't exactly the same thing, but there might be something I could do to help."

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be." She sighs and lets go of his hand, hands sliding up his arms and over his shoulders until she has his face between her palms, fingers touching just behind his ears. He revels in her touch, his eyes sliding shut as she leans forward and brushes a kiss against his lips that he returns with the same measure of softness that she offers him. "Just think about it?"

This is why he finds himself seated on her bed, hours later, sans shirt. They've already played through the 'are you sure' part of this song and dance, and now her hands are on his back, her palm gentle against the long stripe that marks his spine. "If it starts to hurt, tell me and I'll stop," she directs.

"That is the state you are trying to ease, is it not?"

She chuckles. "Hurt worse, then," she amends, and he hears her take a deep breath and expel it rhythmically before magic hums at her fingertips.

He has to hold down the instinct that calls for his lyrium to flare to life – this is not dangerous magic, this is the touch of a healer. Soft. Gentle. Warm. It sinks into his skin and soaks into his muscles, tingling as it meets with lyrium before the tingles fade to be replaced by simple relief.

 _Relief._

Fenris can't help the noise that leaves his throat at the way that the pain is simply not there any longer. Not relaxed away by warmth, or distracted away by sex, but simply _gone._ "Yes," he breathes.

"Checkmate," Cora says, a pleased smile to her words as she follows his markings with her magic, chasing the pain away with that blessed warmth at her fingers, her palms. It isn't perfect, by any means, but _oh…_

He cannot remember the last time it didn't sear his entire being to breathe. This… this is more than getting used to it, more than simply ignoring it and pushing it aside.

This is true relief.

Her hands butterfly across his skin, tracing the lyrium lines with magic that is unlike any he has felt before. Oh, he has been healed, but nothing quite like this, nothing that is focused simply on easing pain and nothing else. He knows the effort on her part is not inconsiderable, and so when she tells him to take off his trousers with a playful edge to her voice he does so willingly, pausing only to kiss her knuckles before he discards the clothing and she continues down his legs, bringing relief where there once was fire.

When she finishes, he props a pillow up against the headboard and leans against it as he pulls her into his lap, his fingers toying with her hair. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"I don't know how long it'll last," she warns him, taking one of his hands and twining her fingers with his. "You'll have to let me know when it gets bad again so I can renew it."

"I never thought magic could be used for such things," he admits quietly.

"Magic caused your pain. It made sense magic could alleviate it." She laughs lightly, a gentle chuckle at some thought she has yet to share with him. "Thank you for letting me try. I'm sorry it's not a permanent solution."

"It helps," he tells her firmly. It's a simple matter for him to free his hand and catch her jaw with his fingers so he can tilt her head towards him and kiss her, trying to convey everything he cannot manage with words through his actions. He feels her smile against his lips, and hopes he has succeeded. "That is more than enough."


End file.
